


and they danced across the sky

by chagrins



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergent, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Inappropriate Use of the Force, RFFA Valentine's Exchange, Reylo Valentine's Exchange 2021, Short, The Force, set during the beginning of The Force Awakens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:28:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29234568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chagrins/pseuds/chagrins
Summary: When he was still a child, he constantly watched the blue butterflies as they danced in the sky.They seemed to be calling him, aiding him each instance that icy-cold darkness flowed through his very veins. The magnificent creatures saved him from the voices. They drowned out the incessant chatter in his head. Temporarily cleared away all the anger. During those brief respites, watching those blue wings flutter in the sky, Ben felt free.But that’s another life. Another world. Another time. Another, another, another.And Kylo's no longer a child.No. He welcomes the darkness now. Embraces it.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 10
Kudos: 18
Collections: To Find Your Kiss: The Reylo Fanfiction Anthology's Valentine's Day Exchange





	1. The Beginning of the End

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flipflop_diva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flipflop_diva/gifts).



When he was still a child, he constantly watched the blue butterflies as they danced in the sky.

They seemed to be calling him, aiding him each instance that icy-cold darkness flowed through his very veins. The magnificent creatures saved him from the voices. They drowned out the incessant chatter in his head. Temporarily cleared away all the anger. During those brief respites, watching those blue wings flutter in the sky, Ben felt free.

But that’s another life. Another world. Another time. Another, another, another.

And he’s no longer a child.

No. He welcomes the darkness now. Embraces it.

A compartment door snaps shut behind him, and a gust of air whooshes against his legs. He storms down the ramp, departing his Upsilon-class shuttle. His arms lock by his sides, fists clenched, ready. Gliding toward the bottom of the landing platform, his cloak billows in the wind as he reaches the sandy ground at the edge of the metal walkway. The humidity hugs him in a suffocating embrace, and he nearly chokes as he breathes in the thick air.

_What a wretched planet, this Jakku._

Scanning the vicinity, he sees nothing save for filthy villagers covered in rags, clothing full of holes. These beings are meek looking, _weak_ , and clutching their few possessions. His army of troopers are storming the grounds, pillaging in desperation for the object Ren seeks most.

The map to the enemy.

His spots a familiar man in his field of vision, and Kylo’s eyes narrow into two tight slits. 

“Look how old you’ve become,” he says, voice modulated in a way that still fills him with a rush of adrenaline.

Lor San Tekka stands before him. No one worth his time beyond the information Kylo Ren may or may not glean from his mind. He senses in his bones this aged man will never give him what he needs; the Force has already shown him San Tekka’s demise at the hands of his saber. And Ren can’t disappoint the Force, after all.

“Something far worse has happened to you,” Lor grunts out.

“You know what I come for.”

“I know where you come from before you called yourself Kylo Ren.”

“The map to Skywalker. We know you found it and now you’re going to give it to the First Order.”

“The First Order rose from the Dark Side. You did not.”

“I’ll show you the Dark Side.”

“You may try, but you cannot deny the truth that is your family.”

“You’re so right.” Irony drips from Ren’s lips. He doesn’t have time for this idiocy—San Tekka can’t begin to understand the pain he’s been through. Nobody can. And now, it’s time for this old man to meet his end. Kylo Ren longs to fulfill fate’s wishes. Rage grips hold of him, a fire burning through each and every nerve ending. Jerking the saber upward, he swings down hard toward his target and—

All sound stops. The world around him freezes. A girl’s brown, shimmering eyes.

Hunger. Fear.

 _Loneliness_.

It’s only Kylo now. Alone in this vacuum of the Force.

Alone. But also with somebody else.

This girl flits about, launching toward something, though he knows not what. She extends her arm. Perhaps she’s in the middle of a… jump? Kylo Ren can’t see her surroundings. But he sees the rest of her—a young girl, presumably a scavenger, dressed in rags. Mid jump, her eyes become aware. Her mouth drops open. She knows he’s here. And her hand misses whatever it is she’s reaching for.

“Kriff!” she screeches, her yell piercing straight through him.

Gravity drags her downward, and he watches her fall.

Her voice begins loudly and quickly fades—fades until it is nothing, fades along with her body which drops down into wherever it is she is. All at once, he watches the darkness swallow her hole, and then she’s nowhere, she’s nothing.

A tug pulls at Kylo’s stomach, and an overwhelming sinking feeling nags at him. For the briefest of seconds, he wants to leave, to find her, to demand answers, to see what’s become of her. No. His eyes narrow. He won’t allow himself to experience pity for anyone. Especially not over a nobody.

Time unpauses then. The rest of the world crawls back to life.

Kylo finds himself shaking and with his saber extended directly in front of San Tekka’s face, inches from burning the old man’s nose off. He considers following through—he considers it very strongly. But his mind is reeling from what’s happened. He no longer has the same urge to kill this man as he did a moment ago. Odd.

“Sir?” a trooper asks. “Is everything alright?”

Kylo lets out a few clipped breaths, chest heaving from whatever the hell just transpired. Hell. Such a fascinating concept—one he once learned from a weak man. He makes a mental note to strike it from his vernacular.

He needs to collect his thoughts. Compose himself. He still wants the map to Skywalker, but now he has something else he wants, too—and Kylo Ren gets what he wants.

Deactivating his saber, he takes a strong step back. He doesn’t understand how to explain this Force vision or the girl, but he needs to meditate on it. Make temporary leave of this place until he better understands what he’s up against.

“Take him,” Ren hisses to one of his troopers who abruptly grips Lor around his shoulders. “I’ll deal with this scum aboard my ship. He knows something. I know he does.”

With a sharp turn, he marches back toward his shuttle.


	2. The Girl in the Desert

Rey watches the chemical reaction of brownish flour, water, and ration packets as they rise into some semblance of a doughy loaf. Meat and bread. That’s what Unkar Plutt called the combination. Though she severely doubts they taste anything like the real things. Either way, she spent her entire day finding enough credits for dinner—and she could’ve earned more currency, too, if it hadn’t been for her break with reality earlier.

She scoffs at the notion, even though there’s no other explanation for it. A break with reality. Yes, because handsome strangers with dark eyes simply didn’t appear out of thin air.

The idea that she’s gone mad crosses her mind once again, as it has been crossing her mind since the experience earlier in the day. What had happened to her back there on the old Imperial wreckage?

“It’s entirely possible I’ve gone mad,” Rey considers aloud, “given I’ve spent most of my life talking to myself. What if my brain has simply decided it needs to compensate for what I’m lacking?”

With that sad idea, she yanks up her dinner and heads outside to eat and watch the sunset. Her only constant friend, it seems, has been the fading sun that meets her every night at the end of a hard day’s work. Food has never been easy to come by—but she imagines that one day, when her parents return, she’ll never have to want for food or water ever again. She envisions a house—a home—with a dog perhaps, and a younger brother or sister. And every night, her family would eat together, discussing the latest piloting tech they’d touched or other pursuits from the day. They’re probably like her in that way, her parents: they probably love to fly and know everything there is to know about piloting. She just knows it.

She rests against the warm sand and tries to take slower bites. Her stomach growls, however, and before she knows it, she’s gobbled up the entire bowl of food. Her stomach hisses, groaning, screaming at her for more. But there is no more. There’s nothing. Only her. Alone.

A Rebel alliance flight helmet rests beside her. Rey found it once during one of her trawls. An item added to her collection. For such a lonely girl, she clings on to the few physical items in her possession. At least she has something.

Slipping the helmet over her eyes, she gazes through the vizor. Captain Dosmit Raeh wore this helmet once. Rey imagines her adventures, imagines helping Captain Raeh explore the AT-AT that is now Rey’s home, imagines working beside somebody else. And when Rey imagines, she isn’t so alone anymore.

Time passes in this manner, and Rey drifts away, lost in the dream of working beside somebody else for the greater good. A soft sigh escapes her lips and with it the sadness returns, cutting through her little body like a sharp bolt of electricity.

She shouldn’t do this to herself.

She _is_ alone.

And might always be.

Right as the abhorent thought exits her mind, a buzzing whooshes around her. Less a physical noise and more of a feeling. The sound of wind in the air fades. Everything pauses. And like someone has snapped their finger, she suddenly feels it.

No… she’s feeling _him_.

Her break with reality.

He’s back.

A man cloaked in black watches her. He’s nowhere near her. In fact, she senses he’s quite far away. But she sees him through her mind’s eye and catches him studying her with squinted, dark eyes. Deep eyes that swim on endlessly.

There’s so much pain. He’s sinking, falling, struggling…

So much anger.

Rey rolls back against the sand, overwhelmed by the awful emotions emitting from this man. She wants to curl into a ball and cry. She wants to disappear. She wants to never feel this way again. Pain oozes through her entire soul, and she holds in the urge to wail. This is worse than the last time when perhaps she’d been more distracted by her scavenging.

“Who are you?” the man grits out, words slightly murky, almost as if he’s under water. Despite all of this, his statement cuts into her, and she flinches.

It takes her only a second, but she regroups the way she always does. She’s a survivor. Survivors can’t afford to let anything keep them down. Rey allows the negative emotions to slip away, to quite literally roll off her back. Finding her equilibrium, she sits up, at attention, trying to make sense of what’s happening. This can’t be a hallucination, can it?

The man lets out a loud groan, and she can feel his irritation. “I’ll ask again. Who are you?”

Inhaling, she narrows her eyes.

No one is going to demand anything from her. Absolutely no one.

“Who am _I_?” she repeats his question, a layer of annoyance coating her tone. “What kind of question is that? You’re quite the rude one, aren’t you?”

“Don’t play games.” His words are steady now, clearly masking a hidden fuse, anger begging to rise up to the surface. “Who. Are. You?”

“I’m…” She pauses. Blowing out a breath, she adds, “That’s a very good question. One I’m afraid I can’t answer.”

She feels his patience wear thin. The stranger clenches his fists together, and the corner of his lip twitches. “I’ll ask you nicely one more time. The next time, I won’t be so kind.”

“You can ask me five more times as nicely or as rudely as you want,” she deadpans. “My answer will be the same.”

“Fine. My way then.”

Before she has the opportunity to question him, or to call him out on his empty threat, the man lifts his hand in the air. The area around the front of her cranium tightens, and an abrupt tension rests behind her eyes. A fog crawls over her. She isn’t sure how, but she feels this stranger lifting up every memory she has, digging deep, pulling through her personal archives. Something he has no business touching, yet he pries, and touches what he wants.

Her hands grip the sides of her head, and her mouth twists. “What… what are you doing?”

“You’re so lonely,” he says. There’s a hint of care in his tone, a little crack as if he might cry. She wonders if it’s genuine or if he’s doing it for show. “So, so lonely. Your parents… they’re gone. They’ve left you.”

A flush of anger courses through her. He has no right to those memories.

“What are you doing?” she demands, this time her own tone matching his irritated one from earlier. 

“The Force is connecting us, it seems,” he says. “I’m trying to determine why.”

“The Force?” she asks with an edge of surprise. But… that isn’t real. It can’t be. Because that would mean Jedis and all the legends she’s heard at Niima Outpost are actually true.

“Oh. You don’t even truly believe, do you?” He digs a little further, crawling around her mind. “To you, the Force is simply a myth. A tale told by old men who’ve had too much to drink.”

His lips are still twitching, and he appears so unsatisfied. Whatever he hoped to get from her, he clearly hasn’t found it. A defiant smirk crosses her lips—though the expressions drops the moment she understands she truly hasn’t won. He finds the information in her head useless, and the saddest thing might be that it’s true.

The man releases his grip over her, and the tension lifts.

“Such a waste,” he says. “From what I’ve gleaned, you’re just some useless, weak, lonely girl.”

“It seems like even that is better than what you are,” she hisses out of defense, blowing past all her doubts.

He tips his head forward. “Perhaps.”

And then he’s gone–their connection severed.

She’s alone once again.


	3. The Boy Who Was Ben Solo

When his boots touch the sand, he isn’t sure why he’s returned. He spent the earlier part of the day probing San Tekka’s mind—finding nothing save for the memories of a map in the hands of some orange astromech droid. Ren tells himself he’s returned to this abysmal planet in search of the droid. But the droid is long gone. He senses it.

And yet… he’s returned to Jakku, here to shake a ghost that simply will not remit.

The sun stands high in the sky as he makes his way toward Niima Outpost. His generals granted him the information he needed to find the very center of the planet. He isn’t sure where he might find this girl, this scavenger—or why he’s even searching for her exactly—but he decides to start in the market. As clearly as he senses the droid is long gone, he also senses the girl will be there… somewhere.

Villagers cower as he brushes by them. Of course, they remember him. _Of course,_ they do. Everyone remembers him, Kylo Ren, the monster. The fear from their bodies assaults him. Grips him like a cold blanket, an added weight weighing down his body. And as he moves, they jerk away, they hide, they do everything in their power to avoid his presence. Their fear, their _fragility_ , reminds him of the boy known as Ben Solo, and all those nights he hid beneath his pillow, wailing into the night, crying, begging for the pain to end.

He plants a strong foot into the dirt. The stance causes those awful memories to fade away, and he returns to the past. They need to die, those memories, just as Ben Solo once did.

All around the market, there are food trucks and local businesses. Each little stand contains something unique the merchant has brought to the mix. One has tuanulberries. Another sells spare parts. Kylo’s eyes dart around the mess, the congestion of foot traffic irritating him. He slips into the throng, suddenly sensing the girl’s presence. She’s here. Just like the Force suggested. He can feel it.

On the other side of the market, where the crowd has emptied out, he spots a watering hole. A large creature he doesn’t recognize dips its snout into the well. Off to the side, a few villagers wait along a rock ledge. They’re staring up at the sun as if it might fail them, as if they’ve nothing else left. Kylo lets out a disgusted grunt.

He sees her beyond the villagers, at the very edge of the rock wall. She sits with her legs kicked out in front, a book propped in her lap. She’s scribbling something, kicking her feet absentmindedly as she creates whatever it is. Curiously, and quietly, he draws closer. When he’s near enough, he’s able to view her _drawings_. She glides a beige stick with a black tip over the parchment pages, and Ren instantly thinks back to a calligraphy set he once used. Back in another life.

 _No_ , he tells himself. _Stop thinking of the boy who was once Ben Solo._

On the left page, she’s sketched a TIE fighter—a very detailed TIE fighter that appears as though it’s been drawn by a professional. Ah, so she’s an artist. He wants to hate this about her, but discovering her talent only makes him drop his guard. There’s something about artists that always have.

He stiffens once he notices what she’s drawing on the right page. Her hand hovers over the paper with her ink, and she’s drawing a pair of dark eyes.

His eyes.

“I see you make good use of your spare time,” he says with snark.

She drops the pen. Her entire body freezes. Slowly, her eyes peel up, and the two exchange a tense glance. There’s a unique innocence mixed with defiance in the way she gazes at him. A strength not many show him, the monster. The longer she stares, the more Kylo feels his heart pace speeding up. He’s interrogated hundreds, possibly thousands. Yet she feels different. There’s something about her he’s never encountered before.

And the question remains: why is the Force connecting them?

“It’s you,” she murmurs, her eyes a pool of questions. For an instant, her guard is down—this he knows—she’s thrown off by his unexpected appearance. Yet in a second, Kylo watches the walls rise.

“Back to invade my mind again?” she asks. “Or whatever it is you call what you did last night.”

“A mind probe,” he offers without hesitation.

“Right. Well, the next time you try that, whatever that is, don’t expect me not to fight you. Because I will.” There’s a fire crossing her features. A challenge in the way she lifts her chest and holds her chin up high. This girl. She’s not scared of him.

Odd.

“Why have you come?” she demands. “To see the ‘weak, lonely girl’?”

“Something like that, yes.”

“Well, you’ve found her. I’m here. And if you wouldn’t mind, I’ll be going.”

In one motion, she sweeps up her parchment papers with her pen. She lifts from her seat and turns on her heel to leave. But he waves a hand in the air and forces her movement to cease.

“What are you…” she begins, gritting out the words.

“Not so fast. I’m not done yet.”

She’s clenching her muscles, truly trying to fight him. There’s a line of sweat that trickles along her brow. She’s desperate. Determined. He almost believes, for a split moment anyway, that she might step through his clutches. How interesting. He’s never seen anyone try so hard before.

Kylo snatches the papers from her arms, keeping his solid hold over her. “Now, let’s take a look. I’ve learned nothing substantial from your mind or your lips. But perhaps your journal will say something neither has told me.”

Sifting through the papers, he scans for anything pertinent. He trusts the Force has connected them for a reason, and he’s going to find out what that is. One way or another. As he quickly reads through, little pockets of information jump out at him.

“Rey,” he breathes. “Your name is Rey.”

She grits her teeth. Says nothing.

He continues.

“Look at all these drawings of old Imperial ships,” he muses. “Seems you are a scavenger after all.”

“Give those back to me. That isn’t meant for the likes of you.”

He purses his lips. Flipping to the front of this… this journal… he discerns the title. “Rey’s Survival Guide. How fortunate for me that I’ve found you then. How else would I survive this dreadful planet?” His words, so full of snark, feel so good leaving his lips. The heat warms his bones, and he relishes how much the pain brings him joy.

The girl’s eyes darken. Her lips part.

“You should really watch yourself,” she offers.

Kylo raises a brow. “Oh?”

She begins to speak, but before she says a word, a sharp pain shoots through his back. His grip over Rey releases abruptly, and he shoots to the ground like dead weight. Though he can’t see it, he senses the warm blood already pooling around his left shoulder blade. As if he’s been hooked up to a machine, there’s the feel of metal connected to his body. Kylo reaches for the Force, but the weapon thrusts into his body three more times, and he feels his life Force drain.

Everything begins to grow fuzzy.

A human male appears over him. Dark, squinty eyes full of hate intended for him. The man reaches behind Kylo. With one solid movement, he jerks out a metal spear—beskar, he’s certain—and towers above. The man’s lips quickly curl into a smile.

“And now, Kylo Ren, you’re dead,” the man says simply.

As the man raises the spear up, Kylo shuts his eyes.

Everything fades to black.


	4. Rey's Humble House

“You’re quite heavy, aren’t you?” Rey asks the lump she’s managed to carry through the desert. The sun has set in the distance, and she keeps watching over her back to make sure no one from the market has noticed what she’s done. Solomon stabbed this Kylo Ren seven times with the beskar blade—no one usually lived to tell that tale. And the crowd of villages grouped together, carrying on about burning the body. That’s when Rey decided to step in.

She isn’t sure why, because this man is absolutely terrible, but the idea of his demise sends a shock of emptiness all through her body. And she still doesn’t know how the two connected across space. She tells herself it’s for this reason that she snatched the body while the others were preoccupied, debating about what to do next. She tells herself she plans on saving him because she wants more answers.

But that isn’t the full picture, and she knows it.

“It’s alright,” she continues, speaking to this Kylo as if he were conscious. “I’m used to talking to myself. This is perhaps a step up, isn’t it? Well, you might not think so, because you’re arrogant in that way, but it truly is.”

She takes strides across the empty desert floor. No one crosses their path. It’s just the two of them. Her and this stranger, this horror of a man. Yet for someone so terrible, he certainly seems so calm when he’s incapacitated. Her eyes flutter to a close as she walks toward her humble home, the old AT-AT she’s claimed as her own. With her eyes shut, she inhales a long, deep breath. Somehow, she intuits that, like their connection across space, she might be able to feel this stranger if she tries hard enough.

What is it about this man?

“Who are you, anyway?” she asks. “Who are you truly?”

Like the other night, her connection to him sends a rush of anger straight through her heart. But now, there’s more there than she sensed before, as if his current state has naturally lowered a barrier previous blocking her out. There’s sadness. Overwhelming sadness. Hate. But, unlike stories she’s heard about villains and the hate they show _other_ people, this is much different. This hate has been directed inward. This hate is toward himself.

A tear slips down Rey’s face as she nears the entranceway to her home.

She lays his body out on the closest thing she has to a bed: a flat box with a small blanket and pillow. She feels the back of his cloak. Drying blood coats the exterior. She’s certain he will hate her for doing this, but she’ll need to undress him—at least partially—to bandage him up as best she can.

Rey works her magic. Slipping off his clothing until he’s down to nothing but his pants. He grunts, and her body tightens at the thought she might’ve woken him up, but he simply falls back into the deep rest he surely needs. A couple weeks ago, she discovered an old Imperial ship—and ended up in a room full of bacta. She collected some of it for use in case of an emergency but never imagined she would need it for anyone else. Fortunately for Kylo Ren, she has enough to save him.

Pausing, she collects her thoughts, gazing down at the innocent-looking _boy_ sleeping on her bed. Because in this moment, his facial features look so young, just like a boy. He’s no longer the scary man he presents to the world but something else entirely. She wonders about his childhood, if he even had one, or if he had to grow up well before his time. It’s so evident now that his guard’s down: he acts the way he does because of a hole in his soul.

Kylo’s curled up in a tight, rounded ball, eyes clenched together. He shakes ever so slightly, and she assumes it’s a combination of physical pain and mental anguish ailing him. For the first time since they “ran into one another”—if that’s what one called it—her heart begins to hurt for him.

“I had to grow up before my time, too,” she murmurs. “Do you think that’s why we’re connecting the way we are? Two broken kids. I’m waiting for my parents. How about you?”

She waits for an answer the way she’s been waiting for those parents of hers. Of course, like her mother and father, she receives nothing. She sits with the emptiness for a moment, then she brushes it away and focuses on the bacta.

“I might be making a mistake saving your life,” she says. “The villagers have been talking, and I’ve been listening. Even so, there’s this feeling inside of me, the one that pulled me to grab you before they burned your body. It’s always been there, I think, moving me forward and in a certain direction. But, tonight, I felt it again—and it led me here, with you, sitting together in this moment.”

She eyes the bacta and dips a couple of fingers into the liquid.

“So,” she continues, “if I am making a mistake right now, if I’m somehow saving a man responsible for killing thousands, please do me a favor. When you wake up, when you come out of this, please do the right thing. Don’t make me regret this choice. Be worth it.”

Her hands fall flush against his back, and there’s a little tingle that works through her body. A spark. Something invisible that’s tying her to him. Rey’s never experienced anything like this. Never had this kind of physical connection to anybody. Swallowing, she spreads the bacta over the rest of the wounds, watching as the injuries begin to fade.

Kylo groans, eyes still clenched tight, and he shifts around in the bed. For a second, she considers what she might say to him once he’s finally awake, but she truly doesn’t know how it’ll go. At a loss, she returns her attention on the bacta, the blue glow reminding her of the blue butterflies that once followed her everywhere she went. All those nights she spent so afraid, so petrified, a young girl searching for food and shelter. All those nights she cried herself to sleep, screaming into a pillow. But those butterflies, those beautiful and glowing butterflies, they always appeared, as if out of nowhere, fluttering around her. Reminding her of her own inner peace. Rey’s not sure she would’ve gotten through that childhood without them.

All at once, Kylo’s body jerks upright. He’s coughing, nearly choking, and she reaches out a firm hand, planting it against his chest.

“Be careful,” she warns. “You haven’t had the proper medical treatment. You need to take it easy.”

His frightened eyes glance around her small space. He’s weak, defenseless, and there’s a glaze over his expression that tells her he’s still out of it. His chin dips, and he gazes in the direction of her hand—the one touching his bare chest. His chest rapidly rises and falls.

“What are you doing?” he asks with a hoarse voice. “Where am I? How did I get here?”

“You’re still on Jakku but far enough away from Niima Outpost that no one will come after you. And I carried you.”

A soft smirk plays on his lips. He thinks she’s joking, doesn’t he?”

Letting out an annoyed huff, she reaches for a bottle of water—coveted water—the bottle she’s saved for emergencies.

“Here,” she says, pushing the bottle into his hand. “Drink.”

He eyes her suspiciously, like she might’ve handed him poison.

She scoffs. “Don’t look at me like that. If I wanted you dead, I would’ve left you with the others. I dragged you all the way out here, through the sand, mind you. Not the sort of thing I do when I’m intending on killing that person.”

His nose twitches. “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”

“Mind probe me again, or freeze me in place, and the next time this happens I might be speaking from experience.”

A weak smile forms across his face. He must be out of it, she reasons. He certainly doesn’t seem like the type to smile. There’s a soft chuckle that leave his mouth, but then this morphs into another cough, and his eyes slowly begin to shut.

“You’re going to be okay,” she says, reasoning with herself more than talking to him. “You just need some time to heal.”

“Thank you,” he says groggily.

His hand reaches for hers—and somehow it fits right into place.


	5. The End of the Beginning

When Kylo opens his eyes, there are butterflies dancing in the sky. He sees them through a window in this old, abandoned AT-AT walker. They glitter in the night, sprawling out in the most intricate pattern. Unable to look away, he watches them with wonder. He doesn’t want to let go of the anger, he feeds off it, but the presence of the butterflies slowly pulls it from him.

Rey must’ve laced that water with something. She _must_ have…

“For the millionth time,” Rey groans out. “I did not poison the kriffing water!”

He jerks up from where he’s laying—a hard box shaped like a bed frame. Who in the Force would ever sleep on this? Blinking, he rubs the sleep from his eyes, staring down at the girl who’s curled on the floor next to him. She twists around and narrows her eyes in his direction.

“I’ll have you know I’m not in the business of murdering people,” she says. “And furthermore—"

“Furthermore what?” he asks. “How did you know what I was thinking?”

Is this Rey a Force user? Has she been playing him this entire time?

“What do you mean what you were thinking,” she says. “I heard you say it loud and clear!”

“I did not speak the words.”

Rey jolts up, perching on the frame of the bed. She’s facing him now, eyes level with his.

“Who are you?” Kylo demands. “I want to know. Now.”

“Who am _I_? Who are you? And why are we connected like this?”

He studies her. Questions the words, diving deep into the interior. Yesterday he might have attempted the mind probe once again, but today he tries something different. Perhaps aided by the butterflies in the sky, he shuts his eyes and exhales a deep breath, clearing his mind. Creating a space so that he can see clearly—think clearly.

Everything inside of him becomes blank as he searches, as he digs for answers. He came to Jakku in search of a map that would lead him to Luke Skywalker—and his efforts brought him to this scavenger. Why?

He feels her presence beside him. Cracking open an eye, he sees her mirroring his stance. She’s held her chest up the same way as him, and she’s gently closed her eyes. In this very moment, he processes all of this, recognizes her for what she is. The Force has connected them—and she saved his life.

Breaking his connection completely away from the meditative trance, he simply watches her.

“What do you see?” he asks gently.

“I see… light, dark. Cold… heat…” Her eyes scrunch a little more tightly. “Joy. Terror. Darkness…”

The butterflies continue above, and Kylo feels himself drawn closer to her. So close that her face is close enough for his nose to touch.

“And there are blue butterflies,” she says. “The same ones from my childhood. The ones that always guided me.”

“The ones that always guided us.” The words leave his mouth as more of a realization—and less of a statement. “I think I understand now.”

Her eyes flutter open. Somehow, without another word, they both feel it. He leans in closer to her as she parts her lips. Before Kylo has a chance to process what’s happening, their mouths have connected, have found one another, and all the energy engulfs them in a bubble, hiding them away from the rest of the world.

Kylo isn’t sure how this can end, or if it ever will, but one thing becomes certain.

One way or another, he’s going to offer her his hand, the opportunity to join him, to be next to him forever.

And when he does offer it, she’s going to take it.


End file.
